The Not so Epic or Great Life of a Jedi's Daughter
by Ace Trainer Alicia
Summary: In which the daughter of Qui-Gon and Tahl recounts her exploits, secrets, and extremely unorthodox ideas to her curious young student. Slightly AU, slight Obi-WanxOC
1. Enter Senna and Illiana

_Hey… sweet Primus, I've been neglecting this. This was my first fanfic too—wow, I started five years ago and I've put it on hold and redone it a zillion times. Hopefully this time I'll finally finish it. I'm pretty much done with FFnet, but it's kinda stupid to leave this stuff hanging._

_What's the point of this anyway? Well, not long ago in a galaxy not far away, a creative little girl with a runaway imagination watched A New Hope. After devouring the rest of the original trilogy, she happily moved onto the prequels, even going to see ROTS in the theaters. She still felt something was missing, though—interesting female characters. The OT had Leia, but who did the prequels have, excepting a handful of women (Tahl, Siri, Etain) in the books? So she imagined a Jedi who would be a strong woman, who did more than just be there and get killed by the Empire. Thus this little story was born. Be grateful the first draft is no longer on FFnet, though—you can tell from the older reviews that it was awful. Anything a thirteen-year-old writes is generally terrible—thank Primus I've grown up a lot since then._

_The second try wasn't awful... So why did I start over? Well, I felt that first-person was the wrong POV to use, and I also thought that I followed the Jedi Apprentice novels too closely—cookie-cutter fics are boring. What's the point of fanfiction if all you do is rehash the existing story? I have no intention of merely copy-pasting the same shit somebody else wrote with my characters shoehorned in the background._

_Well, without further ado, here's The Not So Epic or Great Life of a Jedi's Daughter, take three. Third time's the charm, they always say. I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't… well, it's no great loss to me._

_Disclaimer:__ Alicia Rivers has no rightful ownership of the Star Wars franchise, and makes no profit from this story save for her own personal satisfaction. If she did own Star Wars, the prequel movies would have a decent plot, Jar Jar Binks wouldn't exist, you'd be seeing more hot Mandalorians, and the female characters other than Princess Leia would have actually done shit. However, her disclaimer is getting too long, so she will cut to the story and not bother you anymore._

_Illiana means bright. Senna is a kind of plant, and Kumori means cloudy or shadowy._

* * *

She could hear the clash of her own blade against another as she deflected the oncoming blows. Her hair swayed behind her in one very long braid, striking her in the back and legs repeatedly, but she had learned to ignore it mostly, aside from being careful not to cut it.

It seemed as though her opponent was tiring, if his living Force was any indication, but the thirteen-year-old wasn't going to take any chances. She definitely could not afford to make a misstep or break her solid defensive stance.

"Stay focused…" she thought silently, adding a little Force push to her parry. "Plan a strategy… make your moves logically…"

"Hit him, Senna, hit him!" The female voice broke through her concentration, making her nearly trip as she stepped backward to block again. "Pay attention to the spots he's leaving open!"

Senna Kumori squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, despite the blindfold she was wearing, and raised her lightsaber to block another blow. She wished her mentor wouldn't yell at her while she was focused on the Force, but sure enough, she could sense room for an attack. She'd been overthinking her defensive moves and given little thought to an offense…

"Skywalker, you've got huge spots wide open there; your stance is awkward!"

Sensing her opponent's startled jump, Senna seized her chance. Quickly she pulled her blade back and sliced upward, precisely striking her intended target.

"OW!"

Now it was Senna's turn to be startled. She pulled off her blindfold and saw her fellow Padawan Anakin Skywalker sitting on the floor and wailing in pain, his hands clamped firmly on his groin. His lightsaber had rolled off to the side when he had dropped it.

She hadn't meant to injure him badly, but now was no time to think about that. She had to do the most logical thing—which in this case meant run over to help Anakin get up and ask if he needed to see the healers.

The eleven-year-old boy moaned loudly, still clutching his groin. "I can manage… owww… just watch where you hit me, willya?"

"He'll be fine, Senna," her instructor cut in. "Consider the Force on your side. Had this been the real thing, you would have neutered him—not too shabby, if I do say so myself."

She turned to look at Anakin. "You should be more careful and brush up on your defensive moves, young Skywalker—you have decent offensive ability, but you should also cover your weak spots."

Senna blinked at the dark-haired older woman in disbelief. "Master Illiana, why would you compliment that? I didn't intend to hit him there."

"Your intention is not my concern," Illiana replied, straightening the rather old-fashioned lenses she wore for her eyesight. "Intentions never mean a kriffing thing. I simply compare your performance at my lessons with what I would expect in a real fight. I have several battle scars, you know." She pointed to the thin scar lining her left cheek. "And this one is only the icing on the cake."

"How'd you get that scar anyway?" Anakin asked, leaning on Senna's shoulder slightly to regain his footing. "It can't have been from a lightsaber... owww…"

"I'll tell you that story another time, Skywalker." Illiana blew a strand of brown hair out of her face. "You should go and rest, and get a cold pack to soothe the pain. If you must speak with the healers for the cold pack, I recommend a visit to Kanna—but you appear to be fine."

Anakin looked disappointed. "I don't need to go to the healers—" He hesitated briefly before opening his mouth again—"but will you remind me please, which one is Kanna again?"

"Human, bluish-silver hair and dark blue eyes," was the reply. "You can't miss her."

Reluctantly, Anakin nodded and stumbled off on his way, muttering a "How am I gonna explain this to Obi-Wan?" as he went.

"Master, you should have at least shown some concern," said Senna, strapping her lightsaber back onto her belt. "If someone is accidentally injured, helping out is the logical thing to do."

Illiana shook her head. "My concern with this lesson was for you, and your swordsmanship practice. Young Skywalker is Kenobi's concern, not mine. And I've told you a million times to call me Illiana." She motioned for Senna to come follow her. "This is enough lessons for you for one day. We should settle down some."

As Senna followed her Master down the halls and back to the apartment they shared, she couldn't help but wonder what had made the older woman like that.

In the two years since she had become her Padawan, they had both warmed up to each other greatly and grown to share trust. Illiana never referred to Senna by anything other than her first name, encouraged her interests in puzzles and code cracking, and always found something to compliment her on. Yet the twenty-seven-year-old Knight still kept a part of herself aloof, and when she wasn't with Senna, she could be found curled up on her bed reading a book. The two were rarely deployed—Senna could count the number of missions she had been on in the past year on her fingers—and when they were, it was normally against Illiana's protests.

"She seems to want to avoid people like the plague," Senna thought silently, following Illiana into their apartment. "I've never seen her show any kind of trust or kindliness to anyone other than me… well, there was Healer Kanna, and I'm not sure what it is she has with Master Kenobi…"

She was used to Illiana's antisocial demeanor and distaste toward others by now, but she had always wondered about it. Where was the logic in it? What had happened to make the older woman so cold and distant? When they had met, Senna had sensed a hardness in the Knight's heart, as well as a Force wall around her mind that blocked out her attempts to read her. Those defenses had wavered little over the past two years, even for Senna. She must have something to hide…

Illiana was already sprawled across her unmade bed, calling a book from the floor to her with the Force. Senna decided that this was her chance—why wonder about things, when the logical thing to do was get an answer?

"Why?" she asked.

Illiana dropped the book she had picked up. "What?"

"I said why," Senna repeated. "I don't understand why you're… well, like you are… why you prefer books to living beings, why you dislike everyone so. Master Illiana… You're a puzzle I can't seem to solve…"

The brunette looked at her silently, not responding. She was shaking slightly, but the look in her eyes seemed to say she had been expecting this.

"What was it?" Senna was looking intently at her mentor. "Just what was it that made you the way you are now?"

Illiana was quiet for several moments. She looked to be thinking over what she would tell, and kept blowing strands of hair out of her face.

She sat up straight and finally spoke again. "Ah, I knew you would ask eventually—but you still have so much to learn, Senna. It was not one thing that made me the woman I am today. It was many things—many factors shape the human mind. It's really rather complicated actually."

Her durasteel-colored eyes hardened. "You've proven yourself a trustworthy partner before—now you must do it again. Should you wish to know, I will gladly tell you of the events that shaped me into what I am now—but you are not to tell anyone else. Certainly not the old farts."

"I—I won't tell, promise," said Senna, nodding nervously. "Force, I might even eat poisoned gundark's liver or marry a senator before I told." She knew Illiana could probably tell that was an enormous exaggeration, but she was too eager to get to know what she might be trying to hide.

The older woman nodded her approval. "I see. Well, technically the first thing to make me who I am now was my very birth."

Senna was about to say that was true for anyone, but the comment did remind her of something—she still didn't know anything about Illiana's family, childhood, home planet, or much of her past at all for that matter. In their two years together, she had talked about her own origins, and it was a logical part of knowing someone a long time—shouldn't she know Illiana's as well by now?

"I suppose that I was unorthodox from the start," Illiana said, reclining slightly. "Like other babies brought to the Temple, I was quickly taken away from my parents and raised in the care of the Masters. Unlike other babies, I didn't have to be brought to the Temple—I was born within these walls."

"You were born in the Temple?" Senna blinked. "But it's always closed to outsiders—oh wait…"

Illiana nodded. "Jedi having children, yes it happens. It's far more common than it may seem."

"Is that why you never brought up your family?"

This earned Senna another nod. "I had to get to know you better, wait for you to prove you could be trusted. I don't need the attention it would garner."

If Senna had been curious before, now she was positively craving more. "Were your parents important Knights? Were either of them on the Council or anything?"

"You may have heard of my father," Illiana said, her eyes growing slightly misty. "He always used to say I took after him more… oh frag, did he ever take unorthodox to a new level. I still question if he was even counting on me showing up…"

* * *

_27 years earlier_

Qui-Gon stood on the small balcony looking over the Coruscant horizon, the breeze blowing strands of his hair across his face. He barely noticed the lights of the city, instead focusing his attention on the sleeping bundle in the healer's arms.

"I don't care what the Council says, Kanna… I don't think I can bring myself to agree to this."

The healer named Kanna shook her head and rocked the baby slightly. "I understand, but do you have a better alternative?"

Qui-Gon knew she had a point. He'd been taken off-guard by Tahl's pregnancy in the first place, and he'd spent so much time trying to make sure those nine standard months went smoothly for her and the baby that he hadn't given enough thought to what they would actually do after it was born. There had been the occasional cursory thoughts about how it would almost certainly be trained as a Jedi, but he hadn't dwelled on it long enough.

"Total separation is more than she deserves," he said. "She at least deserves to be held by her father and nursed by her mother. Besides, it's barbaric the way they treat the babies in the nursery…" He shook his head, doing his best to banish the thought of the healers ignoring the child's crying for the sake of "non-attachment" out of his mind. Now was not a good time to be angry.

"You could always negotiate that with them, but word could spread," said Kanna, passing the bundle to Qui-Gon. "They just don't want her to know that her parents came from within the Order until she is a Padawan and ready to face the galaxy. They worry she might become too attached to you to focus on her learning, or that she'll demand to become your Padawan."

"I don't need to personally train her, and I don't think Tahl would necessarily want to either." He sighed, looking down steadily at the sleeping child in his arms. "But no contact with her from now until she turns thirteen? That's unfair to her, and we should have to take some responsibility for her."

Kanna looked at him sadly. "I can arrange for Tahl to nurse for the first year or so, but I don't think either of you could otherwise get around the Council's decision."

She tucked a lock of silvery-blue hair behind her ear. "I can act as a messenger, though. I can keep an eye on her as she grows and share how she is doing with both of you each year on her birthday. You may not be permitted to check on her directly, but I can."

Moving a step closer, Kanna lowered her voice. "And I will admit, I can agree on your thoughts of the current nursery management. You needn't worry; I won't put non-attachment before her needs. I've held and rocked other babies before—no one knows this but I. She will be cared for well in my hands."

Qui-Gon sighed again, still not looking away from the sleeping baby. It wasn't much of an assurance, but it would do.

"Thank you, Kanna. We would both appreciate it."

Gently he began to rock the baby, speaking softly to her. "I am sorry I cannot be the father I should be. Please, when you're older, do not resent me for not being there; it is not my choice. I will care for you and do what I can for you, Illiana, even when you're grown—and always remember I'll never hesitate to protect you from harm."

If she could sense him reaching out to her with the Force, she didn't give any indication, and continued to sleep soundly. Still, the connection was there, tight and strong, and Qui-Gon hoped she would sense it the next time she saw him.

* * *

"Why were they surprised?" Senna asked. "It doesn't sound like they were doing anything that could interfere with pregnancy."

"Oh, they weren't." Illiana blew another lock of hair out of her face. "They just hadn't had any children for several years despite being married, so Mother believed—erroneously—that she was unable to conceive. I presume it was the will of the Force she be proved wrong."

Senna still couldn't quite understand why, if the two had married in secret, they would have not taken endeavors to subvert childbearing in order to avoid the Council's attention… On the other hand, if they had, she wouldn't be where she was now.

"Did you find out when you turned thirteen as promised, or was it later?" she wondered. "How did you react?"

"It was shortly after my thirteenth birthday," was the reply. "Master Yoda had asked Kanna and I to form a tag team with one Qui-Gon Jinn—I'm not sure if I knew he existed before then—and his Padawan…"

* * *

"Come in!"

Qui-Gon calmly opened the door to the cabin and walked in, taking a seat beside the young man seated on the bed. He'd been finding that his new Padawan was starting to grow on him, but that wasn't the only thing on his mind.

Looking around the room, he saw that young Obi-Wan Kenobi was indeed not the only one there. Just as Kanna had said she would be, a dark-haired girl about Obi-Wan's age lay curled up in the corner on a beanbag, reading a book. Dressed in the same sand-colored tunic they both wore themselves, a lightsaber at her side, she was holding the book in such a way that her face was obscured. The Force bond, however, was unmistakable.

Qui-Gon couldn't help but notice how much she had grown. Seeing the lightsaber strapped to her hip made him feel even prouder… how strong was she now? Did she take after him more, or her mother?

"She only came in here to read," Obi-Wan said, also looking her way. "I've been trying to talk to her for a long time now, but she won't, most of the time. We've been spending a bit of time together while you've been off with Kanna, but she still isn't saying much."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "How long is a long time?"

"Illiana's been in several of my classes, before our adventures together began." Obi-Wan looked her way again. "She never seemed to want to talk to me or anyone else—she always went off to read some book and rarely ever said anything. This is the first time I've seen her since she became a Padawan."

He looked down at his hands. "I'd really like to make friends with her…"

Qui-Gon contemplated what he was going to tell Obi-Wan. They hadn't been a team for that long; could the boy be trusted? Was it fair to involve him in family matters? Would he be another Xanatos, fall to darkness, and try to use either Tahl or Illiana against him?

On the other hand, it had been under Yoda's instructions that they were being sent to Gala along with Kanna and Illiana as a tag team. "Time for her to know her origins, it is," the little green Master had said. He hadn't said anything about leaving Obi-Wan out of it.

Ah well, they both might as well know. There was probably a reason to tell Obi-Wan too, but you could never tell with the will of the Force.

"Obi-Wan, what I am about to tell you is not something that word should spread about. I'm placing a good deal of trust in you to keep this between us—do you promise not to talk indiscriminately about what you're about to hear?"

Obi-Wan looked a little nervous. "Is this about that Xanatos character? I wouldn't openly talk about you and him; I know you don't like to think about it…"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, it's not about Xanatos; it's about Illiana."

Neither of them noticed her twitch slightly at the sound of her name, and peek at them just over the top of her book.

"I won't tell, I promise," Obi-Wan said, glancing sidelong at her nervously.

Qui-Gon nodded and hesitated a moment before he spoke. "Well, Obi-Wan, I don't doubt that you and Illiana will someday become good friends. You see, I… I happen to be her father."

Illiana dropped her book and sat straight up before Obi-Wan had a chance to react. "Wait, what?"

Obi-Wan's eyes widened even further than they already had. "I—I've certainly never seen anything that got her to put a book down before, Master…"

"Shut your pie hole, Kenobi," snapped Illiana. "I was just getting to the good part—and I don't appreciate being interrupted while reading."

Qui-Gon nodded severely. "You heard me right, Illiana. Close your eyes… can you feel the Force bond between us? The connection has been there since you were born."

It took Illiana several moments to stop staring. "Hm…" She blinked. "I'm not very good with the Force at all. I'm really only any good at levitation…"

She closed her eyes anyway, looking thoughtful. "I suppose there is something there… either way, why would he lie about something like that? Besides, he knows my name—I don't recall ever having spoken to him before…"

Opening her eyes again, she stood up. "Well, this is an unexpected twist. I had come to think those were more likely to happen in books than in real life."

"Her father, really?" Obi-Wan was still staring in disbelief. "How did that happen?"

"So if you're my father," Illiana added, "where is my mother?"

Qui-Gon proceeded to tell them about Tahl, and gave a quick summary of their relationship before mentioning that Illiana had been born just about thirteen years ago.

"You definitely inherited more from me," he remarked, "but your face is your mother's. She certainly gave you her beauty."

At this Illiana burst into laughter. "Ha—me beautiful? Hardly. I've barely even started growing, too. Have you_ seen_ Shaak Ti? She's about my age, and she already has a chest this big." She held her hands up in a circle about eight centimeters in diameter. "She needs to bind 'em flat. I would if I were her."

Obi-Wan's face grew bright red, and Qui-Gon sighed and shook his head. "Kanna told me you had quite a bit of growing up to do. She was certainly right about that."

Illiana merely shrugged and sank down onto the bed next to Qui-Gon. "So, you're my father and all… Am I supposed to call you Dad or something? I certainly can't call you Qui-Gon or Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon was about to respond, but Obi-Wan piped up first. "'Dad?'" he repeated. "I—I'd call him Father if I were you—show him a little more respect, you know?"

"I barely know the man, Kenobi," she snapped. "Would you call a man you knew for two minutes Father? Dad is a perfectly legit term to use, and Dad he shall be. I'll consider saying 'Father' when he feels like my father."

Qui-Gon was surprised by how rude his daughter had grown up to be. Hadn't the Masters taught her manners? Kanna had told him about her antisocial tendencies and her preference for books over live companions, but he certainly hadn't expected her to be so insolent and cold to Obi-Wan.

"I suppose I must give you time before you're ready to call me Father," he said. "Nonetheless, we must talk. Please, come with me."

* * *

"Needless to say, if I'd had any further doubts about him really being my father, he cleared them up with that scolding I got." The older woman chuckled a little and straightened her lenses. "He didn't yell or anything, but he really chewed me out about how I was talking to Kenobi."

"Why were you rude to Master Kenobi anyway?" inquired Senna. "Did he do anything wrong?"

Illiana shook her head. "Dad—Father—was right to a degree; I was harsh with him for no reason other than my own prejudices. But he was a teenage boy, Senna. Teenage boys are the most ridiculous and impossible creatures in the galaxy, regardless of species. They were reason enough for me not to bother speaking to any of my classmates."

This reminded Senna of when she had become Illiana's Padawan. "So that's why you only asked for girls when you looked for a Padawan?"

A nod was the response. "I'll admit I've since learned that teenage girls are hardly any better, but I don't think I'll ever have the patience to deal with teenage boys again. Especially Jedi students—they think they're going to be mighty knights in shining armor, gallivanting around the galaxy slaying Sith lords and rescuing princesses." Illiana covered her mouth and gagged a little. "Psh. A real woman doesn't need to wait for a man to rescue her."

Senna had grown accustomed to Illiana's prideful attitude and her scorn towards damsels in distress. Many a cheap romance novel had come inadvertently flying at her head, mainly because Illiana never paid attention to where she threw them. She'd come to think of such occasions as yet more levitation practice, as well as meditation practice (when she was blocking out her Master's rantings about stupid men still thinking women were weaklings).

She knew why Illiana might have that attitude, but she still thought it was slightly irrational. Senna could think of hypothetical situations where a rescue would be necessary to her very survival. Would the rescuer's gender, species, job, or anything really matter in such an event? If she were ever put on death row, or got lost on a strange planet without a lightsaber, even a Sith lord could rescue her and she would still be grateful that he had saved her life. Granted, she might have to kill him afterward, but still.

"What D—Father said about Kenobi and I being friends, though—that really stuck." Illiana blew another strand of hair off her forehead. "I wondered what good it would do me to make friends with him, and since he was going to be following Father around all the time, I'd probably end up getting to know them both. So I guess I was willing to forget the teenage-boy thing, just a little."

Senna had always been curious about her Master's odd relationship to Obi-Wan Kenobi; however, what she really wanted to know about right now was Knight Tahl. So far, Illiana hadn't given any information about what her mother had been like.

"So you've told me a little about your father," she said. "But what about your mother? What was she like?"

Illiana's eyes seemed to soften up at the mention, like solid durasteel melting into misty-gray clouds, and Senna thought she saw the hint of a tear or two. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they were slightly watery.

She wiped her face on her sleeve. "Oh, you would have liked Mother, and she would have liked you. If any one thing made me the woman I am today more than anything else, it was Mother."

Senna straightened up and listened even more intently as Illiana paused a moment, looking up at the ceiling with a bit of reverence, and then continued.

"Mother was a bit of a loner… but only slightly. She was known for having extensive knowledge on nearly everyone and everything, and knew all the embarrassing secrets you could think there were in the whole Order—though Father did manage to take her away from her research from time to time. S'why I'm here." She gave a slight grin.

"Stating the obvious aside, you also somewhat remind me of Mother. She always researched everything extensively, and was also highly curious. The downside to that was she tended to get into sticky situations any time she was out in the field—which was how I managed to meet her, in fact. Curiosity always killed the gizka, you know."

"What happened when you first saw her?" Senna wondered.

"So Kanna and I were tasked with traveling to a war-torn backwater world to rescue a kidnapped Knight… and at the last minute the old farts decided that Father and Kenobi would again come with us to form a tag team…"


	2. Questions, conflicts, and unorthodoxies

_Heheh, it appears that replacing old material with new isn't recognized by FFnet as an update… oh well, all the more reason to write the next installment. It also explains the number of reviews—every time I revised the story, I simply replaced the old material with the new. My apologies to all the previous followers of this story for any inconvenience. Moreover, I write assuming that you, the reader, know the events of the JA novels, therefore I've no need to recap everything in them._

_I'm a little worried I'm going a little too fast-you've only just met Senna and Illiana, and already I tap into quite a few of the latter's major character flaws. While she is supposed to be a disturbed and angry individual with obvious flaws that define her thought process, I don't want to flesh out those flaws too rapidly. Critique is much appreciated..._

_Disclaimer: I think there's no need to say it, but just for good measure, the opening scene with Senna and Anakin last chapter was not intended to be in any way comical. I may not like him at all, but there was nothing funny about what Senna did to him. She knew it, Illiana knew it, and I know it too._

* * *

"So Mother had gotten herself caught in peace negotiations gone wrong," Illiana was saying. "These were some bloodthirsty folk, pretty stupid as humans go—hating each other because they could—and the Melida tribe had Mother prisoner. S'why we were split up—Father and Kenobi would go to the Melida, and Kanna and I would go to the Daan." Her lips curved into a wry smile. "It didn't go over well."

Senna was wondering just how bad such a conflict could be. "Define 'didn't go over well,' please?"

"So we met these three Daan tribesmen—they weren't actually that bad, in retrospect. Kanna tried to play to our little friends' hatred by telling them it was in their best interests to help us rescue Mother from the awful Melida," Illiana said, trying to stifle laughs. "They fell for it at first, but then one of them got interested in Kanna's skill as a healer and decided he'd like her to stick around, since there was a shortage of medicine all over the planet." She wiped her lenses on her sleeve and put them back on again. "So they all decided that they'd only help rescue Mother in exchange for a few Melida heads and Kanna's hand."

"That's actually a better deal than what Father and Kenobi got, but Kanna wasn't having any of it. The Force was really with us on that one—a bunch of kids who were sick of all the fighting managed to steal us away safely. They saved Father and Kenobi's skins too, and it was with their help that we managed to get to Mother..."

* * *

"So does this mean you can lead us to Tahl?" Qui-Gon asked the two teenagers sitting across from the group.

"Cerasi can," replied one of them, a young man with a messy light-brown mop. His red-haired companion nodded and smiled at him. "The rest of us can distract the guards—they'll come running the moment they hear of a Daan attack."

Kanna looked up from the two children she was tending. "Are the Daan planning to attack, Nield?"

"Nope." Nield smiled and shook his head. "But we can make them think they are. All we'll be needing are some smoke bombs, detonators, and red paint."

"I'll distract the guards and get the grown-ups in through the front way," said Cerasi. "Obi-Wan, you'll follow Nield's group with Eliana through the back way under cover of the smoke bombs, and then I'll meet you on the inside of the complex."

"It's Illiana," Illiana snapped, but Cerasi paid her no heed.

"What about all of you?" Kanna looked around the darkened chamber at the many skinny, undernourished children. "Many of the children here need bandages, tourniquets, food and water… prosthetics even…"

"We can manage, Jedi Kanna," piped up one of her current patients, a small girl. "We've survived lots of the horrors of war, and we're still alive. Tahl needs you more than we do."

Cerasi nodded in agreement. "Your concern is appreciated, but let's get our priorities straight. We need to regain control of our planet, and then we'll be able to get proper care for everyone here."

"I'm not too keen on having either Obi-Wan or Illiana separated from either Kanna's sight or my own," Qui-Gon said, his brow furrowing slightly. "We do have to take responsibility for them."

"You don't have to worry," Cerasi said, brushing her bangs out of her face. "They're both what, thirteen? They're not children. If you trust 'em with those saber thingies, it should follow they are both perfectly capable of taking care of themselves."

"Trust us, it's safer for them that way," added Nield. "You're a bit more likely to run into harm's way because of your age—the grown-ups don't take us seriously, at all. Therefore, they'll have it easier following us around than following you."

Kanna and Qui-Gon still both looked skeptical, but Illiana broke in. "Don't bother arguing—our primary concern is getting Mother to safety and getting off this planet. At this point I'd eat the moss growing on this tombstone if it was necessary to free Mother." She motioned to an old gravestone she was leaning against.

"Don't eat it," Nield said, though he was nodding his approval at her. "Please. We tend to rely on it as a food source in times of need."

He stood up and motioned for Kanna and Qui-Gon to follow him, and several other children followed after them. Cerasi waited for them to go, and then scooted over closer to Obi-Wan and Illiana. "Guess I was hard on your Boss-Masters, eh."

"Qui-Gon is not my boss, Cerasi," Obi-Wan retorted. "That's not the Jedi way. He's more of a guide."

"Kanna too," Illiana added. "All she does is show me how to use the Force better and have me follow her around. I taught myself how to fight—I have to protect her half the time."

"You're self-taught?" repeated Obi-Wan. "How'd you get to the top of the advanced lightsaber class that way?"

Illiana smirked and stifled a laugh. "Simple. I read books on the subject. About a thousand of 'em and counting."

Cerasi shrugged. "Well, you don't ass-kiss, I'll give you that," she said. "But if you ask me, elders always think they know best. You can't just follow them around and never question anything all the time. Eventually you have to take control of your own life."

She motioned to the children all around the room. "If Nield and I hadn't questioned what we were taught and taken control of our lives, we wouldn't be the last hope of Melida/Daan. The war would continue for several more millennia, and you would have all been a lot less lucky. But we had a dream, and nothing ever changed until someone followed their dreams."

Her jade eyes seemed to soften a little as she looked at Obi-Wan. "You've both seen my dream. Do you have any special dreams for the future?"

Obi-Wan's face grew red, and he stared at her in silence, racking his brain for what to say. Illiana raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes at him, but she had fallen thoughtfully silent as well.

* * *

"It was so kriffing obvious that Kenobi had a thing for her." Illiana laughed, her face lighting up in a display of emotion Senna rarely saw. "Silly him, eating up everything that came out of her mouth as though it was fresh shaak's milk. Though I'll admit, what she had to say struck a chord in me too."

Senna blinked. "Really?"

Illiana nodded. "What she said about having a dream. I never forgot that—and I've read about it in a lot of books too. The driving force behind many a story is that the main character has a dream, and that's what motivates the tale and the person within. Individual dreams are more powerful than I used to imagine—many have completely changed the galaxy. It made me wonder about my own life, and about you—without a dream, what purpose does my life have? Why do I exist? Why do you exist? Why are you and I here, now, today?"

She met Senna's gaze with her own. "Senna, we aren't taught to have any kind of dream—the Jedi path is set in stone. There are options within the Order, yes—Consular or Guardian, diplomat or warrior, healer or instructor, green lightsaber or blue—but in the end, it all follows a set path, from Initiate to Padawan to Knight to eventual death. We're simply expected to do what the Council wants us to do, go where they want us to go, dress how they want us to dress, live how they want us to live. There's no room for dreams in our little corner of the galaxy."

Raising a hand, she levitated the end of Senna's braid and called it to her. "You thanked me for taking you as a Padawan—remember, Senna?—because you feared never being chosen due to your lack of swordmanship skill. You feared being sent off with the Agri-Corps—I know you're primarily a scholar, not a farmer. Did you ever question why, if you weren't qualified to be a Jedi, they would not simply return you to your family and let you live an ordinary civilian life?"

Her mentor knew her too well, it seemed. Senna had wondered exactly that before. She had met her family once, and had since pondered what her life would have been like had the Jedi not taken her. She knew she almost certainly would have attended the prestigious Leadership School had she stayed on Andara, and most likely studied logistics or psychology. Her parents would have probably wanted her to become a professor at the school, or a doctor, or a senator.

"It crossed my mind numerous times," she said, fingering her braid. "I never figured out why the Agri-Corps is custom… it's a good intention, but not very logical."

She looked up at Illiana. "My parents would have focused greatly on my schooling if I had remained on Andara… but I don't know what career path I would eventually choose. There are so many sound and logical options for someone like me…"

"And you would have filled that void with a dream," Illiana said, letting Senna's braid go. "You would have discovered what you loved the most, and dreamed of making a difference through doing what you loved. It is a shame the Council stole that chance away from you when they spirited you away from your family."

She shook her head, looking somewhat melancholy. "There's no point in wishing to retcon life, but it makes me sad to think of what you could have had. The life that could have been yours could never have been mine."

Senna wasn't sure what to think. She had never thought of the Jedi Order that way. This life was supposed to be a path of service to the galaxy—someone was needed to keep the Republic in order, and the Jedi filled that purpose. They had chosen her for such a noble task, and she was ready to fulfill it. What Illiana had said made them sound cruel and uncaring—but would a cruel and uncaring faction travel to backwater worlds the Republic government ignored to help the people and save their lives? Weren't there sacrifices that needed to be made for the greater good of the Republic and its citizens?

"You were going to tell me about meeting your mother," she said hastily, anxious to change the subject. The tangent was a bit much to process at the moment.

Illiana straightened up. "Ah yes, Mother. Well, the diversion tactic worked. We got into the complex without breaking a sweat, and Cerasi showed us to the room where Mother was…"

* * *

The metal of the door peeled away easily as the purple blade sliced through it, and Illiana squeezed through the growing space and motioned for Obi-Wan to follow. Qui-Gon and Kanna weren't far behind.

Sure enough, Knight Tahl was curled up on a nearby cot, looking thinner and weaker than usual. Her caramel skin looked a little too pale. But she was alive and well, and that was what mattered.

Illiana strapped her lightsaber back onto her belt and crossed over to Tahl's side. "Hello, Mother," she greeted, leaning over to help.

Tahl sat up straight and blinked a few times, clearly surprised. "Oh, of all the times to get myself blinded…" she muttered.

Turning to face Illiana, she reached up to brush a strand of hair out of the way and touch her cheek. "I certainly wasn't expecting you, Illiana. Is Kanna with you?"

"Myself as well as Qui-Gon," Kanna said, crossing the room and leaning over to help as well. "The Council sent a tag team, one pair for each tribe. Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine." Immediately after saying so, Tahl fell backward onto the bed, and had to slowly and carefully use her hands and the Force to sit up straight again. "I just haven't had a decent meal in days. Hutt cantinas have better food."

She raised a hand to Illiana again and gently traced her cheekbone. "I wish I could see you, Illiana… you've definitely grown a lot. The fact you're here only shows that you're brave and have become something I can be proud of… now I wonder if you take after your father more, or me."

"Well, I look a bit more like him," Illiana said, glancing between her parents. "He says I inherited your beauty, but I don't think so. I look plain and ordinary."

Tahl smiled and laughed. "I don't need my sight to disagree with that statement. You could be missing your nose and we'd still think you're a beautiful young woman. Your physical appearance has the least to do with beauty."

Qui-Gon motioned to Kanna to step aside, and then carefully picked up Tahl and lifted her bridal style. "Come on. The sooner we're off, the better."

* * *

"Mother recovered fairly quickly after that," Illiana said. "She was back to her old self—at least according to Father—before you could say Mandalorian. Not long after, she insisted on giving Father and I lessons in use of the other four senses."

"What was that like?" Senna asked. "Did she tie blindfolds on your head and make you listen to different sounds all at once?"

"That was the icing on the cake," the older woman replied with a nod. "Usually Mother didn't even bother to blindfold me—she often made me go on scavenger hunts for my lenses. She also had an annoying tendency to put cream or icing on something like, say, a sponge and then make me rely on my sense of smell to choose between that and a real cake."

She half-winced, half-chuckled at the memory. "Believe me, the first few times I fell for it, I learned my lesson fairly quickly. Father was lucky—he'd been getting advanced sensory lessons from Mother even when she had her sight."

Senna shook her head. "Master Illiana, you have mating entirely too much on the brain." She levitated a magazine titled _The 1000 Hottest Swimsuit Models in the Republic_ and motioned to the cover. "I know what your parents were doing in their spare time just by your presence; you don't need to make jokes about it. Also, why do you read this stuff?"

Illiana snatched the magazine away. "Is there anything wrong with that? Many Knights have pin-up posters of Twi'leks in their apartments, and read the ladies' swimsuit magazines. And even the old farts like to step out on the town to see the dancing girls perform. Why is it any different if I look at handsome men?"

Senna still didn't understand—shouldn't such material be disallowed for anyone? Didn't the whole idea of non-attachment naturally entail that Jedi were supposed to be virgins? She had always thought, when the Masters had touched on the mating habits of various sentient species, that because she was a Jedi, she was going to remain a virgin.

"Besides, quite a few people used to ask me all the time why I hated men." Illiana blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Well, I hated men before, but then I grew up and realized they weren't so bad." She opened her magazine, running two fingers gently over a two-page spread of a group of swimsuit-clad humans, Nautolans and Zabraks, and giggled. "If anything, I love men. I just hate when they think ours is the weaker gender."

Senna was starting to get uncomfortable again. She couldn't see anything rational or logical about Illiana's line of thinking, and she had no idea where it might have come from—but she also didn't know how to respond to it. On the other hand, Illiana had lived longer than she had and seen more, so her comment about other Jedi looking at pictures of beautiful women might very well be true.

She changed the subject again. "What about Healer Kanna? What were you two like when you became a Padawan?"

* * *

_Just in case anyone is wondering why I chose Kanna, a Healer, to be Illiana's mentor before she was a Knight—well, I see no reason why this wouldn't make sense. Healer is just a sub-class of Consular, and I don't think a Jedi's class would affect whether or not they took on individual students. The Healers tend to be overlooked a lot, so I wanted to write about them a bit more. Moreover, each one's strengths play off the other's weaknesses, with Illiana as the fighter and Kanna as the healer/telekinetic. Besides, Senna is a Consular and Illiana a Guardian, so they're a complementary balanced team, too. I like to see balance in pairs._


End file.
